


Haunted

by HappyCaracal



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-02-23 20:32:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13198020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyCaracal/pseuds/HappyCaracal
Summary: For Prompto, life has become an endless monotony of grey. Being turned into a vampire had not been kind to him, and now he returns to Insomnia to face the man he accidentally killed, and the once-friends who would kill him in return.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this will be my first posted attempt at fanfiction! I absolutely adore this series and I've been thinking of things to produce for a long time. Then, I had this idea and it wouldn't let me go! Fortunately (and unfortunately), it hit while I'm stuck both with the flu and on winter break from college, so I had the time to write some of it down.
> 
> So, here's the first part! I don't know if anyone reading this is a fan of Patricia Briggs and her work, but the original idea was inspired by her short story Grey. It was such a powerful piece, and I desperately hope that I can capture some of the emotion I felt the first time reading it here.

            Insomnia hadn’t changed much since he’d been there last.

            Not that he minded. Ever since he was bitten, he found that he struggled with change more than ever before.

            However, Prompto couldn’t decide if it was fortunate or unfortunate that the apartment looked exactly the same. It was a miracle that he had found it up for sale upon his return, but he figured it would be a great way to transition back to living in such a big city.

            _Astrals_ , it had been so long since he had lived near so many people.

            He didn’t even bother trying to count the years. So much had faded into a blur, especially in the beginning, once he had fled from Insomnia and its walls and its damn Kingsglaive. _And Noct and Gladdy,_ his mind tried to supply, but he shuddered, forcing the thought down.

            Pale fingers trailed over the walls as Prompto explored his old home, and with each step, he took a moment to breathe in the scents. Sensitive touches felt out new dings and bumps, but occasionally he would find one that they had caused when they lived there, bringing forth a hoarse chuckle. _Iggy was so mad that he had bumped his pan into the wall. He forgave me, though. All the stupid things I did because I was young and happy and stupid. He always forgave me._ The last owners of the apartment had been smokers. Each puff of tar was strong on his tongue, and he had to force down a growl at the thought. _He always hated smoking. My little dabble into cigarettes had to end because they kept disappearing._ Of course, that was why the previous owners had put the apartment back up. The ones before them had also reported strange events, as well as most of the owners after his “miraculous” disappearance. He held no hope of a ghost, though. Although spirits tended to stick around after traumatic deaths, Ignis wasn’t the type. _I hope you found happiness. You didn’t deserve what you got._

            To Prompto’s surprise, the thought brought with it a fresh wave of grief, strong enough to summon a knot to his throat. Wetness dribbled from his eyes, startling a gasp out of him that ended with a hint of hysteria. _Ardyn, you nasty bastard, you said vampires couldn’t cry._ Though, looking at the redness on his fingers, he had to admit that they weren’t exactly what humans would call tears. _Maybe I’m not as strong as I think I am. Maybe I can’t do this._ Frustration bubbled up with the grief, along with the familiar twinge of thirst. Of course. Yet, before he could decide whether to flee from his own home or tough it out, a knock echoed through his empty apartment, reminding him with a jolt that Aranea had insisted that she come check on him once he had moved back in.

            He was at the door in a flash, allowing himself a quick moment to verify his guest before he welcomed her in with a sheepish grin. “Sorry, sorry! I forgot to call!” He cleared his throat to remove any roughness, then wiped at his eyes when her back was turned. “It’s the same as it used to be! Just a few new scratches and dings. Nothing, ya know, alarming.”

            Aranea glanced around the house before turning a scowl to Prompto. “This doesn’t look like any place I would expect you to live in. High end isn’t your taste, Prom.”

He shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “It was his choice. I told you that.”

Aranea’s scowl deepened. “There are a million other openings in Insomnia. In Lucis. Why’d you come back here?” Prompto hunched in his shoulders as though trying to make himself smaller. A habit picked up under Ardyn. How could he explain the sudden nostalgia, the driving need to return _home_? Maybe she picked up on his distress, or maybe she merely scented it, as she let her voice soften. “Prompto. It’s dangerous here. It may have been awhile, but the Kingsglaive will still kill you. And I doubt King Noctis will be very forgiving.”

Prompto’s gaze snapped upwards as shock froze him in place. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. If Aranea hadn’t been a vampire as well, he doubted she would have heard it. “What?” Even moving forward, he found that he could hardly speak, as though something were clawing at his throat. “He’s the King now? What about Regis? What about-?” His words died there, but his eyes were pleading.

It was that look that pushed Aranea forward, though she did so with a reluctant sigh. “You really should’ve looked all this up before you moved back here, Prom. Yes, Regis died at the hands of a Niflheim assassin. You should know.” She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the reaction. “Ten years ago, a vampire, once the Prince’s best friend, savagely slaughtered the Prince’s advisor in his own home before fleeing.” At the reminder, he whimpered, though he had long ago thought he had those sorts of reactions under control. “In the ensuing horror that gripped the city, riots began as the Kingsglaive and Crownsguard began their search, headed by the Prince and his Shield. When you escaped, there was havoc, Prom. I know you don’t remember, because that’s when Ardyn got you and you were still too new to have any control of yourself. But the search violated all sorts of rights that the Insomnians, human or otherwise, couldn’t let die without a fight. With so much going on, Niflheim was able to send in an assassin. Your friend has been on the throne since.”

Prompto battled down another whimper as he twisted around to face his old home. Once again, he felt tears build at the corner of his eyes. When hard arms embraced him from behind, however, he let out a sniffle, voice once again gone hoarse. “I just wanted to go home. ‘Nea, it’s been so long. I just wanted to go home. Astrals, I’ve never cared about politics. I’ve never cared about any of it.”

Aranea only tightened her grip when the sobs began. “Easy, Prom. Easy.” When he twisted around to bury his face in her shoulder, she even cooed, though she would have denied if had anyone asked. “You can’t be alone like this. Come back to Niflheim with me. Help us rebuild. They’ll kill you if they find you here.” But as she knew he would, Prompto only shook his head, barely able to battle through the tears.

“It’s no more than I deserve.”

 

*           *           *

 

            Though Prompto kept an eye out for strange happenings, nothing occurred in his first few weeks home. Unlike the previous renters, there were no missing objects, and nothing moved at night. In fact, the empty home was lonely enough that he took to talking to himself as he moved from room to room, attempting to live life as though nothing had changed.

            And yet, everything was different. He couldn’t fall back into old habits when he no longer needed them. He didn’t make himself meals, so the fridge remained empty. That meant there was no food in his house at any time, which would’ve been suspicious if he had had any company human enough to notice. The bedroom contained a bed and closet, making it the most normal room of the home. For entertainment, he had only old books that he knew Ignis had liked, though he didn’t read them. As for decorations, he kept it bare; there were simply no memories that he wished to keep. One camera still remained untouched at his bedside, but it was gathering dust from disuse.

            One habit that remained, however, was his morning jog. The crack of dawn would have him out on the streets, seemingly ready to tackle the world. What was once simple physical exercise was now a challenge of restraint. Such movement allowed him to feel the stretch and pull of his muscles, but he couldn’t push himself without attracting attention. It was fun, most days, and it reminded Prompto of the world around him, beyond his apartment walls and lonely space.

            Ten years had eased the public’s memory. No one noticed him amongst them. He was still himself, still plain old Prompto.

            Yet, the silent returns brought back an ache where there once used to be a happy glow. For a moment, the memory was alive around him, the wonderful smells of breakfast awaiting his return as he stepped through the door. Ignis would give his little smile and welcome him home before encouraging him to eat. They would talk about the day’s plans, where Prompto would rush off to Crownsguard training and Ignis would head over to take care of Noct, attending whatever meetings needed his attention that day. For a moment, Prompto lost himself, lips beginning to twist into that familiar grin.

            A crash resounded through the apartment, throwing Prompto from bliss to bleak numbness. Legs moving of their own accord, they carried him to the bedroom, where the camera lay shattered on the ground. A strange drifting feeling came over him, a raft of hope and terror as he spun around the room, looking for any sign. Any other time, he would’ve been embarrassed at the crack in his voice. “Iggy?”

            Silence. A silence of waiting. There was heavy tension stretched around Prompto, a feeling like cracks spreading through glass in the heartbeat before it shatters.

            Wide blue eyes took in every inch of the room, even as he listened, even as he flared his nostrils for any hint of a sign.

            Nothing. Only the eerie sense of loss when he had nothing to truly gain.

            The room seemed to spin, and Prompto sat on the ground to right his disorientation as he whimpered. When only that tension answered, he whispered through the ache in his heart, the churning in his guts. “Iggy. I don’t know if you’re there, but you have a right to know.” He paused, then gave a bitter laugh, ruffling his own hair. It wasn’t a style that Ignis would have recognized; in his time away, he had let it grow unstyled just enough that he could pull it back into a ponytail. “Ignis, I suppose. You wouldn’t really appreciate the nickname anymore, huh? Astrals, I don’t even know where they buried you. Probably not around here. Noct wouldn’t want you to be alone.” He shook his head wildly to clear his throat and mind. “Sorry, sorry. You know how I ramble when I’m nervous. And upset. Time hasn’t really changed me all that much.”

            Thus, with a deep breath to steady his nerves, he began. “You must’ve been so scared, so worried. I went missing right after my birthday, right? When I had asked you if you would mind if I sought out the truth behind my past.” Once again, bitter laughter tore free. “I should’ve known you would’ve already known. How could I become friends with the Prince with so many mysteries about me? You would’ve looked, I know you. Or, well, knew you. You told me I probably shouldn’t. That a barcode on my wrist couldn’t mean anything good. And I was so hurt, ya know? I couldn’t just not want to know, and having your support would’ve helped so much. I wanted to steady myself, so I went down to that old bar next to where I used to live. Just wanted a drink or two.” There was a smile, then, but there was no happiness in it, and the tension around him strengthened. “And I blabbed about my problems to the bartender. Just like a damn movie cliché. Someone overheard me, said that they had heard about someone who knew what the barcodes meant. Said they were looking for anyone with them.”

            Prompto turned his head to stare out the window at the sky, yet he refused to leave his seat. There was something distant in his eyes, something untouchable. “So I hauled my tipsy ass out there to find the man they sent me to. Should’ve known there was something strange, that they were hanging about where I lived. I met this guy named Ardyn. You would’ve known him if you’d seen him. I think he was the Chancellor of Niflheim. Anyways, it doesn’t matter. He lured me in with his voice, his words, his touch. I know now that that’s a trick vampires have, makes for much more willing prey.” This time, when he grinned, there was a flash of fangs. “He asked me to come with him, said he’d answer all my questions. And he did, alright. And he had questions in return. So I guess you knew about me. Knew that the barcodes were from an experiment in Niflheim. That people were cloning those who had a likely chance to survive infection. Ardyn was running all of that. And when he found out I was close to the Prince, well… He bit me then and there, giving me his blood to infect me.

            “But here’s the thing about newly turned vampires. Their first instinct? It’s to go _home_. It’s terrifying, horrible and scary, not knowing what’s going on in your own head, not knowing why you hurt, why you’re so _thirsty_. You want to be safe, so you go home. I guess Ardyn thought that I’d run to the Prince. But I ran to you instead.” When the shaking came, Prompto was ready, but his voice had gone flat, and there were no tears in his eyes. “You welcomed me with open arms. You must have been surprised to see me. I thought the infection had only taken minutes, because that’s what it felt like. I didn’t know I had been with Ardyn for days. I… I can’t remember what I did to you, and I don’t want to. I came to myself with your blood on my hands, and Noctis in the doorway. I ran and ran and ran. And Ardyn was there to catch me, to _help_ me.” The air seemed to shudder around him, and Prompto couldn’t help but agree. “I was his pet for such a long time. I won’t tell you what happened to me there. You don’t want to know, and I’m not fishing for forgiveness. But I killed him when I had the strength, and I came home. That’s what vampires do.” The tension abated, but Prompto didn’t notice. With the memories around him, he couldn’t stay in the apartment.

            When he returned the next morning, the camera was fixed, and back in its place next to the bed.                  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! I'm super excited about this one! And thank goodness, my flu is finally ending. I have yet to see if that'll give me more time to write or less, but I'm super excited to write this, so I'll try to get more done soon! I hope everyone enjoys this and has a great New Year!
> 
> Please feel free to leave me feedback, or anything at all, really! I'd love to talk to you all and hear what you think! :D

            If he were honest with himself, Prompto couldn’t tell if anything had changed. There was no evidence, that’s for sure. And yet… The very air no longer seemed so empty, as if there were something there to fill it, something waiting for him.

            Really, it should have made him happy. If Ignis was there, trapped in this house, at least he wouldn’t be alone. But the though only tore at his heart, shortening his breath. Ignis didn’t deserve to be trapped here. No one could be happy as a ghost, not truly. The loneliness that gripped Prompto couldn’t be compared to how Ignis must have felt, powerless and invisible as life went on without him.

            So, Prompto didn’t really blame the spirit when he didn’t show himself. A lack of hostility should have been better than the sense of anticipation. _But I deserved the hostility. What could he possibly be waiting for?_ In the moments when he wasn’t gripped with growing apathy or the sense of despair, he found himself angry, even though he knew he really didn’t have the right. _And what does he know, really? Why can’t I be happy in my own home?_ The rational part of his mind would remind him that it was Iggy’s home, too, longer than it had ever been his, but _damn it_ , vampires were territorial.

            But you can’t fight with someone you can’t see.

            In response, Prompto tried to keep himself out of the house. Because what did he care? Outside of his instincts, his basic drive to live, there wasn’t anything to push him forward. He had a home, but no job, no relationships, nothing. _Nothing’s there for me. Not here, not anywhere else._

            When he had left for his morning run, however, the world had been blanketed in white. Where, in Niflheim, snow had only served to add to the bleakness of the life he lived, here it was… Different.

            A reminder that the cold, both outside and inside, wouldn’t last.

            The thought brought a lightness to his step. For the first time in weeks, he felt the beginnings of a smile on his face. This wasn’t that dreaded place. The crunch of snow, the puff of cold air, all of that would fade away one day. Underneath, the world would be green and bright and beautiful. When the sun peeked from behind the clouds to light up the outside with dazzling brightness, his fingers even itched for his camera.

            People passing by waved at him from the streets, and he responded with the same without thinking.

            In that instant, that single moment of ice kissed bliss and growing warmth, Prompto took a deep breath of the harsh air and thought that maybe, he could be okay again.

            And that is, of course, when the Wolf found him.

 

*           *           *

 

            King Noctis Lucis Caelum, ruler of Lucis and all of its territories, master of the throne for ten years and counting, absolutely hated getting reports from his Wolves.

            Not that he had anything against wolves. Hell, once Gladio had made the choice as his Shield to join their numbers to better protect _him_ , he became well acquainted with their unique capabilities and manners of thinking. There was nothing against the wolves as a species.

            Instead, their keen senses always lended themselves to sharing bad news. And it was the bad news that Noctis truly hated.

            It started with the death of his father, and the rekindling of hostilities with Niflheim. Lucis had been known for their high population of wolves, and such a large number joined the forces in the war that they became their own section of the Kingsglaive, the Wolves of Lucis. Once the war had ended, they helped maintain the peace, and their good standing with the King lent a hand to helping him manage diplomacy with the other nonhuman races. Niflheim, with its incredible fostering of the vampiric virus, ended up having many refugees sent to Lucis, and Tenebrae had been known to enjoy a friendship with the fae. The relationships of the nonhumans had to be kept in constant balance. With the Wolves amongst the people, few could deny that the amount of fear had been dampened.

            So a Wolf approaching Noctis with word of urgent news? Of definite importance. Did dread still curdle in his stomach, sinking down into his very toes? Absolutely.

            Expression blank, Noctis held up his hand in acknowledgement. Behind him, Gladio shifted closer to better keep the Wolf in his sights. “What news do you bring?”

            The Wolf bowed, avoiding both the King and his Shield’s gaze. “Your Majesty, there is an undocumented vampire within the walls of Lucis.” When that brought no reaction, he bowed lower. “It would appear to be the wanted fugitive reported a decade ago, Prompto Argentum. It was to the Captain’s understanding that you had a personal relationship with the man. He escaped, and we wished to know how to proceed.”

            Knuckles popped behind him, but Noctis was locked in place, thin mask of calm slipping from his grip as if he had never held it in the first place. Blood left his face in a rush despite his rising heartbeat. “Prom?” He hated how his voice cracked on the word, but the Wolves would keep any gossip to themselves. “Prom’s here?”

            His words were cut off with a growl before that line of inquiry could continue. “That rat bastard, how dare he?!” Gladio stepped forward with eyes that glinted with inhuman amber, so Noctis threw out his arm to prevent him from moving forward. The Wolf was backing away with nervous glances between them.

            Noctis rose, voice shaking. “Remain vigilant for him. Update us on his location. I want him found, and I want him alive. Now, leave. I need to…” Gladio rested a trembling hand on his shoulder. “I need to confer. You’re dismissed.”

            Neither of them paid attention to the Wolf fleeing the room as though he were on fire.

            Noctis turned away from the doors, heart pounding. Memories lapped up on him like waves, rising higher and higher in their attempt to drown him. The gasping breaths that escaped him were hardly recognizable as his, and Gladio pulled a comradely arm about him.

            _Ignis was sprawled on the floor, wheezing from the fall, but blood gurgled from his lips and clogged his airways. A maw of red was opened under his chin as though he’d been mauled by some wild animal and Noctis could see the glazed look in his eyes, emptying of life as his heart uselessly pumped scarlet onto the floor._

_In front of him was…_

_Was…_

_Prompto._

Gladio murmured his name, but it didn’t stop.

            _Those elegant hands were tipped in claws, each tipped in dribbling red. Ivory fangs were bared at him without recognition, murky garnet eyes slitted like a cat. He rocked from foot to foot, muscles priming to pounce._

_Noctis opened his mouth to shout, raising his hand to warp away…_

_But when the creature that had been his best friend launched himself forward, it wasn’t at Noctis. Instead, he barreled past him into the open night, vanishing before Noctis could even fumble his phone from his pocket._

_A sickening squelch as his knees dropped into blood._

_His heartbeat ringing in his ears, panic riding him like a wild chocobo._

_Someone was talking to him over the phone, giving him instructions, just as panicked as he-_

Gladio shook him with a growl, mouth midway through forming words. _Noct’s name._ “Noct! Noct, get it together! We’re going to catch him. We’re finally gonna catch him. But you have to be at your best, okay? You can’t half-ass this.” Noctis shuddered, trying to pull away, but the hands held firm. “I can’t be your Shield if you won’t let me. We know how dangerous he is. _Get it together!_ ”

            Noctis grabbed Gladio’s hands and forced them off, backing away. “Gladio, that’s _Prom_ you’re talking about!”

            Gladio bared sharpened teeth. “He stopped being Prom when he killed Iggy. You want to avenge him, don’t you?”

            He tried to answer, he truly did, but the words wouldn’t come. A storm had him in its grip, rising from the box he had forced it into so long ago, when he was forced to rise as king in his father’s stead.

            Prompto had killed Ignis. There was no excuse. He deserved to pay for what he had done.

            But it was Prom. His Prompto, his best friend, his confident. Prompto, who rescued puppies and kittens, refusing to leave until their safety was assured. Prompto, who pulled him from the lonely mire he had allowed himself to slog into. Prompto, who had cried when he had tasted Iggy’s food. Prompto, who read sappy romance books with Gladio and looked up to Specs as though he had placed the moon and stars.

            But even in Niflheim, vampires were held responsible for their crimes, no matter how new they were. Leniency was something no one could afford, not when people were so easily afraid and their peaceful life could fall apart with a breath. And Ignis… Gods, how he missed Ignis. His loss was one that had ripped even deeper than Prom’s, and… _Astrals, he had trusted Prom. No one deserved to die like that._ Gritting his teeth, he pulled his resolve from deep within, freezing his expression.

            They had to find Prompto. No matter what.        


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally illness free! Huzzah! :D
> 
> Not going to lie, I don't know if that means more availability to write or less. Things are getting crazy around here, what with college about to start up again, and my research is going to take up a hell of a lot of time. Life stuff, you know how it is.
> 
> Anyways, this chapter was super fun to write! I hope you guys enjoy it! :D
> 
> Please feel free to let me know if you catch any mistakes I might've missed, and any feedback is well-loved and appreciated! You guys are the best!

_Chapter Three_

            The first stop was Prompto’s apartment.

            Not that they held any delusions about the man being there. No, the Wolves were chasing Prompto all over Insomnia, with orders to capture and detain. Prompto could be anywhere but this apartment, the apartment that haunted Noctis’ nightmares.

            The door, Noctis noted, appeared to unlock itself when he touched the handle, and Gladio twitched at the sound. Any commentary had ceased long before, once his opinion on Prompto’s home had been shared. His rage still rang in Noctis’ ears at how Prompto had not only returned to Insomnia, but had the audacity to make a home out of Ignis’ old apartment.

            Except that…

            Well, they couldn’t even really call it a home. Had it been a decade ago, Noctis would have said that it wasn’t Prompto at all. Prompto was all bright color, exuberant energy and passion. Prompto was artistic flair and vibrant opinions. Prompto wasn’t… This.

            “This” was bland, untouched walls and furniture worn enough to have been leeched of most color. Only the very basic necessities to call a place home were present. There was a folding table and metal chair functioning as the kitchen, and Noctis didn’t even have to search to know that there was no food in the house. As for the living room, nothing was located there except for a bookshelf, stripped bare with not nearly enough books to warrant its use. Noctis noted that it resembled one of the bookshelves that Ignis used to own as Gladio wandered over to investigate. Judging from his angry muttering, he didn’t like what he had found, but Noctis chose to instead go hunting for the bedroom. Surely there was more to Prompto’s life than this husk they had uncovered.

            Once the door was open, however, Gladio stalked inside the bedroom to join him. Nostrils flaring, he approached an old, familiar camera. His voice, when he gave in to it, was oddly fragile. “Noct… It smells like Iggy.” At Noctis’ sharp intake of breath, he turned to look with a pale face. “It smells like Iggy was here. Faint, but it’s there.”

            Noctis twisted around as he fought to get his expression under control. _There’s no way. How? Ignis isn’t alive. Unless…_ A shudder raced through him. “Gladio? Be honest with me. What is the likelihood that Specs is still here? Not alive, you know-“ He interjected before Gladio could slip in a snide remark. “But, like, a ghost?”

            The silence wasn’t promising and he didn’t dare look, but Gladio suddenly enveloped him in his arms, keeping his voice low. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, Noct. I don’t know that means. Maybe there’s a ghost here. But if there is, how much of it is really Iggy? We don’t know nearly enough about ghosts to predict what he’ll do.”

            Before Noctis could even begin to respond, gentle fingers carded through his hair. Jolting at the contact, he looked up at Gladio with startled eyes, but the other man’s mouth was hanging open, staring just behind Noctis. His tone was vulnerable in a way that struck something deep in Noctis’ core, striking home like a bullet. “Iggy?”

            Warmth wrapped around both of them, but Noctis refused to twist around, refused to put a picture with the sensation. There was a huff of laughter at his temple, as though Noctis were twenty again and not a man grown to kinghood. _“Oh, dearest Noct. Gladio. You’ve finally come.”_

 

*           *           *

 

            Blistering snow rasped against his cheeks as he blundered through the white-out, each step carrying him further away from his pursuers. Prompto didn’t know how long he had been running, but it felt like days, life slowing around him to an incomprehensible blur.

            The Wolves weren’t trying to kill him, which left him baffled. Why not? He was wanted for murder. He was dangerous. So why were they only haggling him? Why did they back off before causing permanent damage?

            Not that he wasn’t hurt. Fortunately, the cold was doing its best to numb to the gaping bite in his leg. One of his arms wasn’t doing much better, but so long as he had one left, he would keep fighting.

            _Why?_ an insidious voice whispered. _What are you even fighting for?_

Images flashed through his mind, then. Why they weren’t hurting him. _Oh, Astrals, they’re going to torture me. That’s how this is going to end. A lonely cell under the Citadel, with only pain for company._

The thought acted as a goad, pushing him forward through the blizzard.

            Behind him, a chorus of howls rang through the air, carried on the wind as a wordless promise.

 

*           *           *

 

            Ignis stood at the window, one hand holding back the curtains to watch the snow with a somber expression. The scene was picturesque, Noctis thought, as he watched the other man. The old Prompto wouldn’t have hesitated to sneak in a shot. But maybe he too would have hesitated with a closer look.

            Ignis looked just as he had when he died. Eternally twenty two, but healed of the horrid wound to his throat. Despite how lively he appeared to the both of them and how he was able to influence his environment, his form remained stubbornly translucent, though Noctis couldn’t help but rub his eyes to be certain.

            _Nope. Still a ghost._

Gladio didn’t seem to have Noctis’ reservations on speaking, however. “Ignis, have you been stuck here this whole time?” He paced with a restless energy that Noctis could easily recognize. Judging by the clenched fists, he wanted something to take his anger out on, even though they all knew it wouldn’t do any good. “Couldn’t you have gotten a message to us somehow? Visited the Citadel?” Much to Noctis’ surprise, there was a startling thickness in his voice, and his eyes were beginning to fill with tears.

            Ignis must have been shocked, too, but he kept his expression under control as he sighed and turned from the window. _“I could not. It… Took me quite a long time to build up enough strength to manifest my form in this manner. And leaving this place takes much more energy than you might realize. I have visited the Citadel, but by the time I arrived, I was too weak to even lift a sheet of paper.”_ He crossed his arms, and the pose was so familiar that Noctis couldn’t help the faintest of whimpers. Gods, he missed Ignis. Those fond eyes returned to him, though tinged with grief. _“I am sorry for the grief my passing has caused you. But you’ve both grown well into your roles. You’ve made a wonderful king, Noct. And Gladio, a splendid Shield. Insomnia is blessed to have the two of you.”_

            Noctis could barely force out a whisper. “It would’ve been better with you at my side. What is a king without his Chamberlain?”

            That brought a chuckle that eased the knot from Noctis’ throat. _“Still a king, I’m afraid. Now, although we have much catching up to do, I imagine you didn’t come here for me. This is about Prompto.”_

Gladio stiffened, pausing in his relentless pacing. “You bet your ass it’s about that conniving bastard. Our reports say that he lives here. Wanted to learn more about the target, so we dropped by. Just didn’t expect-“ He waved his hand, softening a little. “Well, you.”

            Ignis smirked, Astrals damn him, but Noctis merely shifted in his seat, waiting to see his response. _“Yes, I suppose it was rather a surprise for both of us.”_ The somber expression returned. _“What, exactly, do you wish to know? Surely you couldn’t discern much from this place.”_

            Noctis shook his head. “Anything. Anything you can tell us. It isn’t just about what he did to you, but you know that’s part of it. He could be dangerous. He could do to others what he did to you, Iggy. We just can’t trust him. At the very least, we need to bring him up on murder charges.”

            The look Ignis sent him was flat, devoid of emotion. _“Do you think other vampires would let him live if he had left a trail of bodies behind him for the past ten years?”_

            Noctis bit his lip, a bad habit that he thought he had left behind years ago. Ignis narrowed his eyes and he stopped, fighting back the urge to tug with his teeth. “No.”

            Ignis folded his hands together, now blatantly staring him down. _“Have you considered that my death may have been an accident, conceived from horrible circumstance and tragedy?”_

            It was Gladio who answered next, unable to keep the snarl from his voice. “There is no excuse for murder, even if he was freshly turned. You know the laws here, Ignis. Hell, you practically helped in passing most of them. Nonhumans get no passes.”

            What Ignis responded with was a sigh tinged with both impatience and sorrow. _“The term you should be using is manslaughter. But yes, I did aid with their formulation. But the laws do not accommodate an illegal turning, where someone was attacked on the street. Had he been brought to court, the fault would lay with his attacker.”_

            There was a long silence before Noctis whispered, grief and shame mixing in his tone. “Specs… I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have just assumed the worst. It’s just… Random attacks just don’t happen anymore, you know?”

            The look Ignis sent him was cold. _“It’s not me you should be apologizing to. I’m not being hunted through the streets like a wild beast.”_ He then went very still, gaze becoming distant. _“How long have your Wolves been chasing him, Noct?”_

“Most of the day,” came his reply.

            Ignis swore, wheeling on Gladio. _“Call them off.”_

“What?!”

            _“Call. Them. Off.”_

 

*           *           *

 

            Each step felt like burning fire despite the blistering cold. The spikes of pain was all that was keeping him awake against the growing need to sleep. How could a blizzard get so bad in Insomnia? _Perhaps even Shiva wishes me gone._

One breath. Two. They curled around him before vanishing into the white.

            Three breaths. Four. _Surely they can’t find me in this. Please… Let me rest._

            Five breaths. Six. Another series of wails sounded.

            One arm raised to block the snow, his mind gave the command to run, to go any speed other than the useless slogging.

            Instead, his legs buckled. _This is fine. I’m fine._ His arms weren’t responding. His toes? Nope, out of commission. A breath in. It felt as though the snow was tearing through his trachea. _Like Ardyn, ha._ Thirst drummed in his head, refusing to be ignored now that his body was barely holding on. _Yikes._

A wet nose pressed against his cheek, but he didn’t bother to look death in the eyes. _Think they’ll be nicer to me if they think I’m already dead? A mug of warm blood would be nice. Mmm, mixed with chocolate. Just like hot cocoa._

The wet nose changed into a pant of rancid breath. Unconsciousness, however, beckoned with open arms, and Prompto all but leapt into its embrace. _Astrals, I want a penthouse in the afterlife._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! Hello! Sorry this took so long! Campus has become an icy wonderland and classes are on the brink of starting if the ice would ever go away!
> 
> I don't know how I feel about this chapter, but I definitely think it was necessary. I hope you all enjoy! I love any comments or feedback, so please don't be afraid to do so! You guys are the best, and I love this story a great deal!
> 
> If you catch any mistakes, please let me know!

            The form on the bed clashed with every image Noctis had built up about his reunion with Prompto.

            This man was not the jubilant individual that had run in pure terror at the acts he unintentionally committed. After talking to Ignis, he recognized his actions as what they were: a horrified friend unable to come to grips with what he had done.

            This man wasn’t the creature that Gladio had placed in his head. He didn’t look like a bloodthirsty monster that craved murder and chaos. He didn’t look like a traitor. A beast. An emotionless killer.

            Prompto looked like none of it. He looked… Worn. Tired. His hair had grown out, and he hadn’t styled it, choosing to pull it into a haphazard ponytail. A little tuft of a beard had attempted to grow on his chin, and Noctis made a silent promise that when Prompto was okay again, he’d convince him to shave it off.

            The thought of everything being okay again, of their friendship returning to the way it was before, sent a shiver of trepidation running down his spine. Astrals, the idea of Prompto murdering Ignis had been fostered for an entire decade. He hoped Prompto wouldn’t be too guilty about Noctis’ nerves when he awoke, because he figured it would be a little while before he was comfortable again.

            Not that Prompto had been taking care of himself anyways. He was way too thin, and his lips were blue from the cold. Even under a perpetual mountain of blankets, he shivered with the weak need to warm himself. Ignis’ shimmering form remained hovering around the bed, only breaking away to pace.

            And wouldn’t that be a surprise. Ignis had said that he had never revealed himself to Prompto. His words were still burned into his mind as Noctis stared at his once best friend. _“He guesses. But in the state that he’s been in, I didn’t want to risk pushing him into doing something horribly rash. Suspecting that I’m here is completely different from seeing the evidence of my death before his eyes.”_ No one had asked what Ignis had meant by “horribly rash”. No one wanted to know. But looking at Prompto lying so small and shrunken in the husk of a home, he could very easily guess

            So, he waited. He wanted to be there when Prompto woke up. A quick text to Luna _(and, bless her, she’s been handling this better than I have)_ ensured that he would be free for the day, though he asked Gladio to wait outside. _No reason to stir things up just yet._

           

*           *           *

 

            Worried green eyes. Meticulous sandy hair. Concern drawing brows tight. Small frown. _Ignis._

            Of course, before his mind had a chance to catch up with his mouth, he slurred, “Heaven must be treating me right, because hot damn, you’re the prettiest angel I’ve ever seen.” Both hands clapped up to his mouth, but he couldn’t help his eyes narrow in suspicion as his brain kicked into high gear and remembered the important bits. “Am I dead?”

            Ignis leaned back with the beginning of a blush forming on his cheeks. _Aw, the tips of his ears light up pink. Which I shouldn’t be noticing, because Ignis is dead, and Ignis should hate me, and I’m PROBABLY dead, too._

            And then, Prompto noticed that he was shimmering. And he could see through him. Panic had him scrambling to a sitting position, but Ignis put both hands on his shoulders and _somehow_ pushed him down. _“I appreciate the compliment. While you are not dead, you certainly gave it your best shot.”_ At that, his expression gave way to what Prompto had once noted held the barest pinch of a scowl. _“Which we must work on. Your self preservation skills have not been up to par.”_

A pout materialized on Prompto’s face. “Dude, I’m here, aren’t I? Doesn’t that count for something?”

            The expression brought a chuckle out of the ghost, his eyes softening. _“Only because his Royal Brattiness and his angry pup brought you back. Otherwise, you would be a Promptosickle, and that wouldn’t be cool at all.”_ Despite himself, Prompto giggled at the pun, nervous and reedy. _“There we are. I was hoping I might raise your spirits.”_ The giggles got higher, and Prompto could feel the panic ebbing as though it had never been. _I missed him so, so much._

            However, with the easing of panic came sorrow, rising on a tide of grievous silence. After a moment of wallowing in it, he looked away so that he didn’t have to see the ethereal form of someone so dear. “Iggy… Why are you treating me with such kindness?” With steely determination, he kept himself from glancing back. “Dude, I _killed_ you. I ripped out your throat. I _drained_ you. I’m the reason that you can’t move on, because the trauma of your death kept you here-“

            Ignis cut him off before he could continue. The curtness of his tone snapped Prompto’s head back around. _“Now, there’ll be enough of that. Ten years is quite long enough to shroud yourself in self pity.”_ His eyes narrowed, expression cutting off further protest. _“Don’t get me wrong, Prompto. You’ve been through a great deal. But we both know that what happened was only the fault of your maker. And you know well enough that I don’t do anything I do not wish to do.”_ The sheer amount of confidence in his tone made Prompto’s eyes widen. He knew he was gaping, he knew it, but- _Surely he doesn’t mean that he chose to wait here for me._

            Yet, Ignis’ expression contained no doubt. Only the relaxed composure and surety that only Ignis could pull off with such poise.

            Without any warning, Prompto felt his eyes fill with tears. If asked, he wouldn’t have been able to say what caused it, exactly.

            Relief?

            Peace?

            Uncertainty?

            Fear?

            Because what was he if not a murderer? If not just another vampire? Under all of that, under everything he had been fleeing from, where was Prompto?

            And tucked under the choked ball of emotion in his chest was doubt. How could Ignis be so sure? It had been his reality for so long, colored every inch of his life. How could he be _wrong?_

            But he wanted Ignis to be right. Because waiting for him in that spirit was Ignis, _his_ Ignis, ready to forget and forgive, ready to move on with Prompto. Waiting for him was _home._

            Through his tears, a shaky smile tugged its way up as he sobbed out a single word. “ _Ignis_.” And Ignis was there, holding him in arms that contained the beginnings of warmth. He even squeezed, offering a promise through that touch. Everything was getting better. It could only get better from here.

            _Right?_

The creak of footsteps brought them both to attention to witness Noctis toddle into the room, hair a wild, bedridden mess. He scratched his stomach with a yawn, and although everything about the scene was light and relaxed, Prompto felt his stomach drop.

            Noctis would’ve killed him if he had gotten a chance. He had killed Ignis. Wouldn’t there be retribution?

            But a glance at the outline of his former roommate only showed a calm, diplomatic expression.

            With a mental click, he met eyes with Noctis, and felt his stomach sink even further. One flare of his nostrils, and that confirmed it. _Fear. Nervousness. Does he think I’m going to hurt him?_

Muscles stiffening, he scooted to the back of the bed. His fangs itched to descend at the stress, but Ignis rested a hand on his shoulder. Though it only registered as a feather-light touch, it stopped him in his path away from his once best friend.

            Grief flashed across Noctis’ face, but it soon settled into a flat, diplomatic expression. “I see you’ve reacquainted yourself with Specs.” There was an edge to his voice that he couldn’t seem to keep down. Prompto fought to keep from trying to scoot away again. “He told me what happened. With you and him. And what happened to you while you were away.”

            Prompto battled down a feeling of betrayal but was unable to hold back the spark of frustration. “Yeah? Then what are you keeping me alive for?” Both of them hissed a sharp intake of breath, likely to protest, but Prompto ploughed on. “I killed him, Noctis! Just before all of this, you guys were _hunting_ me! Iggy can butter me up with all of these sweet words about this not being my fault, about how its Ardyn’s fault, but Ardyn _wasn’t there! It was my fangs, Noctis! Just me!_ ”

            Noctis gaped at him, trying to formulate a response, but Ignis beat him to the punch. The specter stepped away with a stern look. “ _Enough of that, Prompto. You need to listen to us, if only just for a moment. I do not blame you for your actions. Noctis has only just learned the truth. He has spent much of his adulthood believing that he was betrayed by his best friend and closest companion. And he had lost another friend in my absence. Do not fault him for his conflict.”_

Prompto shrank back from Ignis as well. “In the eyes of Lucian law, I am to be held responsible for my actions. Am I at fault or am I not?”

            _“One cannot base their morals on the law.”_ Ignis shot Noctis a strange look that Prompto couldn’t decipher. _“Laws can change. What is ethical should not.”_

Noctis took a deep, slow breath. “I don’t know what we’re going to do yet.” A familiar sulk hid under his expression, lurking under that calm façade that had returned at Ignis’ words. The commanding note would’ve made his father proud. “Therefore, I will hold off on this decision. We need to figure out how to go about this.” Shrouded eyes glanced at Ignis. “Official investigation _will_ find him guilty. Any evidence is old and useless. In the eyes of the law, better a dead but innocent vampire than a free and dangerous one. We’ll figure this out on our own.”

            Prompto wrapped his arms around his middle, silent. What would be the use in speaking? It was his future, after all.

            Yet, Ignis once again squeezed his shoulder. _“I cannot be present all the time. I too must restore my strength. Perhaps it would be to our benefit that you pass responsibility to Luna for the undetermined future while we delve deeper.”_ The grip tightened when Prompto shivered. _“Ardyn seems to have deliberately targeted someone close to the Prince. That suggests a mystery beyond the personal impact of what occurred. An attack on the Crown, perhaps. There is more here than just this.”_

More? How could, after everything, there be more?

            Noctis’ expression and posture spoke volumes. _He hates this just as much as I do._ But when he looked at Prompto once more, he tried to offer a smile. Not very large, the slightest twitch of the lips, but…

            Hope swelled in Prompto’s chest. _There’s a future. One outside of running, of being alone. Of being hunted. And if this ends with my death, then so be it._

 _At least I had this._   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On that note, I've been thinking of writing little drabbles in this universe to go along with this story! I don't know how long the main story is going to end up being, and this one is on the sadder side. As such, I'm craving fluff, ya know?


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